


To Save Stiles

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O'Neill's Fandom Stocking Fills [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Consent, Nemeton, Other, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Nemeton sucks him in deeper and deeper, there's only one way to anchor Stiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Save Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fandom Stocking 2013 for bridgetmkennit.

He can't really hear the whole conversation going on between Lydia and Derek. In his head the leaves are rustling and the Nemeton is singing just for him. A part of him knows he's fucked, too far gone, too lost in the power simmering inside him. The rest of him doesn't care. He doesn't remember the solution. 

Beneath his fingers flowers unfold and when he opens his eyes he sees a preternaturally perfect field of waving green grass and flowers and trees taller than the perfect white clouds.

He knows he can make this the world if he just tries.

Dust swirls.

Shouting, panicked voices reach him. His...friends.

He has friends.

He...can't remember their names.

The Nemeton's song deepens, reverberates through his body, and he knows he's sprawled across its surface, vines entwining around his body, and it feels good.

And it terrifies him.

Fear pushes away the song and when he opens his eyes this time the reality is a stormy sky, cold winds, bare branches of trees rattling against each other. It's winter in the real world.

He shivers at the cold.

Lydia--that's her name--crouches next to him, tugging at the vines, crying out for help, and then claws on strong, masculine hands are there, slicing through them. They slice through his clothes, prick his skin, and he moans in pain.

But, it brings him back.

As Stiles watches a drop of his blood fall to the Nemeton, he whimpers, only to see Derek catch it, smear it and the others on his own shirt.

"We need to ground him," Lydia cries, and she's tugging at her dress, pulling it up her hips. Her panties are mint green, the color of leaves in frost. He's drifting again because he doesn't understand why she's pulling them off and straddling his thighs. 

Why Derek is undoing Stiles' belt and fly, even while asking, obviously uncomfortable, "Are you sure?"

"You heard Deaton," she snaps as her hand wraps around Stiles' limp cock, pumps it ruthlessly, and, yeah, that brings Stiles back even more, because of course his goddess would be efficient in her desire. "Two supernatural beings, female and male. Get me the condom and get your damn dick hard, Derek."

"Scott..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you think Stiles wants that? That Scott could even get it up for him?"

"He's too young for me," Derek argues but Stiles hazily watches him dig a foil package out of his pocket and hand it to Lydia before undoing his own pants. Despite his protesting, Derek's half-hard, the head of his cock just pushing past his foreskin.

Stiles licks his lips.

The Nemeton's song turns to a scream and his eyes close.

"No!" And Lydia's scream brings him back just long enough for him to see her drive down on his cock.

Fingers are on his face, at his lips, opening his mouth, and he rolls his head, watches in a daze as Derek lifts him just enough and pushes the tip of his cock inside him. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

And Stiles remembers. He was drifting along the Nemeton's power but he consented. He consented to this, to bonding with them, to them grounding him, to them fucking him in order to save him. With trembling, weak hands he grabs for Lydia's hip, the base of Derek's cock, drawing them both deeper.

Pleasure lashes through him, driving him farther from the Nemeton. Its song diminishes, the chords discordant, but he ignores it, sucking at Derek's cock, lifting his hips to drive into Lydia. His eyes drift between them, sees Derek's discomfort with his own need, Lydia's desperation to save him mingling with her own surprised desire.

He remembers blushing when she laid it out so matter-of-factly. He remembers nodding then vocalizing his agreement. He remembers all three of them doing so. It has to be consensual for it to work.

As the power retreats to a safe place inside him, Stiles comes back to himself fully, and strength returns to his limbs. His neck aches from the angle, his back is sore from the hard surface, his cock is so hard and nearly painful. Lydia clenches around him, her face florid, and he thinks she's coming, but it's so much more real than porn. Groaning, he pushes his hips up into her rocking body, and he's so close. His mouth falls away from Derek's cock but his hand pumps the slick shaft and Derek is growling, a low, pleasured sound.

As Stiles' orgasm rolls through him, Derek's spills over his hand, his cheek and he turns to lick at the sensitive head. Derek's fingers thread through his hair, his breath panting from him, coalescing in the cold air.

Lydia slumps over him, burying her face in his shoulder, shivering.

"Wow," he croaks out because that was so much more intense, more everything than he expected.

"It worked?" Lydia whimpers into his neck.

Stiles examines his mind, the power inside him. He can't hear the Nemeton anymore, but he's not surprised that the whole stump is covered in flowers. "Yeah."

Derek just makes a grumpy noise, but there's a tiny, tiny smile of relief on his face.

Grinning, Stiles adds, "So, can we go somewhere a bit more comfortable and warmer and do this all over again?"

Lydia laughs.

Derek rolls his eyes.

No one says 'no'.

End


End file.
